Pieces of the Sky
by icy roses
Summary: They swirl and dance to the music of the unconventional. Take the road less walked on. Take a chance. Don't look back.
1. It Was An Accident, Dearest

**A/N: This is a series of vignettes centered around couples that are...let's say, rather unconventional. Really, it was an idea from my friend, Jessica, for me to write one-shots about couples that I detest and try to make them sound good. So here is my attempt. It's very fun actually.**

**It Was An Accident, Dearest**

It is wrong, Rin thinks, for children like themselves to know death. Death is not meant to be _known_. It is supposed to be a mystery, the next great journey. Rin closes her eyes and shakes her head. It is no journey. No journey at all.

Death is the end; it is the destination where all things must go. Death is inevitable, irreplaceable, and eternal. Death is where she is supposed to be. Where Kohaku is supposed to be.

She glances over at him, the empty boy, his eyes scattering light like the broken pieces of a stained glass window, every piece, shimmering like the moon. She and Kohaku cheated death. And there is a price to pay for that.

The sky is swirling gray and mist and gray, the gray of drabness, the gray of this world. She awoke to this gray. _Twice._ Rin laughs. Gray is the most beautiful color of them all. She wishes that she could see in black and white. Colors do not suit her. Colors make her miss this life. She does not want to remember when she is gone.

The empty boy comes to sit next to her. He is silent. Rin hates it. The silence threatens to overwhelm her; it is trying to drown her with its thick blanket of suffocation. Rin begins to talk.

"Why don't you ever say anything to me, Kohaku? You're so quiet."

Kohaku swivels his head around slowly, and his eyes pierce into the depths of her soul. For a minute, they gleam red, but then it is gone.

"Words are not trustworthy. They mean nothing. Surely you know that, Rin," he answers.

She loves his eyes. They have all the splendor of a lost soul, all the color of nothing. He turns away, and she loves his head, noble and stoic. Characteristics that count for nothing. He clasps his hand and she loves his fingers, long and thin like kindle wood clacking together senselessly with the sound of nothing.

Rin laughs with glee. She hates things that are full of hope and promise; things that will eventually melt away. Death allows nothing. She hates things that are plentiful. They will last for a day at most. And then the sun will set, and the snow will fall, and everything, everything will be gone. She loves nothing. She loves absolutely nothing.

She loves the empty boy, for he is nothing at all.

Rin stands up. "Let's go, Kohaku."

It is snowing. Rin smiles a secret smile. Death is waiting to take away everything. So she cups all her treasures of nothing against her chest and looks forward. Death may take all it likes.

She holds Kohaku's hand tightly, and they walk into the forest. She loves a nothing-boy, and she kisses him on the cheek.

He kisses her back, a sweet kiss of longing and lost dreams, a bitter kiss of death.

Rin laughs and laughs into his warm mouth. She cries and cries into his smooth neck. Nothing, she thinks lightly.

The two children hold hands and walk off into tomorrow, where death is forever, and children are no longer that. They clasp hands and face the gray.

xXx

"Gray was always my favorite color. Did you know that, Kohaku?" Rin remarks conversationally. She is an old woman now, her hair, the gray of her dreams.

He is silent.

Rin looks over at the grave where Kohaku's name is carved neatly onto a stone plaque.

Just like many years before, she laughs again, only harder. She laughs and laughs into the warm air. And she cries and cries into the cold ground. She misses her empty boy.

The starlings lift into the sky, startled by her sudden weeping.

Only nothing is forever, she thinks.

Both he and she, they are nothing. No ones, nothings, nobodies, just emptiness and emptiness and emptiness…

_And so we are forever. How very funny. I could hardly tell._

She laughs and laughs, into nothing in particular.

Nothing at all.


	2. You Can Pretend, At Least

**A/N: Yeah! Miroku/Kagome! No, in case you are wondering, I do not support this couple in any way shape or form, that's why it's in this fic. But I did do myself proud trying to write it. It really is fun writing vignettes about pairings that I don't particularly like. It made me think, anyway. And I do like the title, ever so much. Please review! And check out my actual real project (this is my consolation gift for not having a chapter finished this week) called Fairytale, under icy roses. Plus, if you have any suggestions as to any other pairings you would like to read about (unconventional, please), send me an email, or review (my preference), or some sort of message, and I'll get back to you on it. And finally, after that big schpeal that probably no one reads anyway...**

**You Can Pretend, At Least**

Kagome watches him go with a hurt in her heart so great it threatens to swallow the world whole. Go, she thinks thickly, her mind hazy with disappointment. I don't need you. But she knows that she is lying to herself.

She looks backward at a sympathetic group. Sango says, "I'm sorry, Kagome!" her voice upset and teary. Shippo calls Inuyasha a jerk. But Miroku just looks at her calmly, walks over and pats her shoulder gently. "He'll come back," he says quietly. Kagome stares at him for a breathless moment. She can see her own reflection in his clear, violet-blue eyes.

And suddenly, she doesn't care whether Inuyasha comes back or not. She feels vaguely lighter, so light that she could float away into the sky.

xXx

They are visiting a village, like any other, and Miroku is off again, chattering with women, joking, and laughing. Sango is sulking in the back, scowling something fearsome. But Kagome stands in front and watches him in curiosity and simple wonder.

He grins devilishly, and his white teeth flash. His monk's garb swings around heavily. He sweet-talks every woman easily, and then leaves for another one, just as easily. His wandering hands flutter around, freely as butterflies. His face is split wide with a carefree smile, and he looks truly sincere.

Kagome knows his secret heart. She laughs out loud as the girls are fooled one by one. Sango too.

xXx

Miroku seems so light and indifferent, always teasing, never serious.

Everyone is sleeping peacefully; even Inuyasha is dozing on his precarious perch on the tree. Kagome used to feel safe when he watched her from above. But now his golden gaze only pierces her through, only licks her hollow. It is too hot, too fiery, too false. Kagome longs for the cool, purple-blue water gaze of the monk.

He is the only one, besides her, who is awake. He sits motionless and stares hard into the flickering flames of the fire. His brow is furrowed in concentration. Kagome wants to smooth away his worries, kiss away his fears.

She marvels at her sudden change of heart. It was so quick that almost missed it.

xXx

Kagome is bathing in a cool stream. She revels in the cool caress of watery ripples brushing across her skin. She breathes a sigh of relief. She is alone for once.

Sango is sick, and Miroku is tending her. Inuyasha is sniffing out demons and exterminating them.

Kagome wishes that she were alone more often. She is always so flanked by people that she feels like she is suffocating under their constant presence. She holds her breath and dives under the water. It washes over her hair, cool and comforting.

When she comes up for air again, Miroku is at the river's edge, a flask clenched in his whitening knuckles. He stares at her in surprise.

Kagome feels her cheeks redden, and she ducks into the water up to her chin. She hears him call out, "I'm sorry, Kagome-sama. I didn't know you were here." She wants to tell him it's okay, it doesn't matter, but instead, she is mute.

She stands up straight again and meets his eyes. Miroku stares back, his eyes full of a strange hunger.

xXx

He kisses her deeply, and she kisses him back. His mouth is hot with desire, and his fire is consuming her lips. But it is a delicious fire, not a demanding one, like Inuyasha's.

She cannot help but feel disloyal to her hanyou, who she has always devoted herself to. But then she remembers his love for a wandering ghost, and her heart hardens once again.

Kagome hates people who are faithful. Inuyasha is always so perfect, so true, so disgustingly faithful. He will never forget his Kikyo, never, for all eternity. Kagome thinks that maybe, maybe if it were different, if she had met Inuyasha before he met Kikyo, then perhaps…perhaps. Inuyasha is too wonderfully perfect. Kagome hates perfection.

Miroku is just the opposite. Never steadfast, never devoted, he lets his attentions wander from one woman to another, floating around like a fluff of cloud. And now, he has chanced upon Kagome. She tries to enjoy it while it lasts, for she will live for the here and now. Forever is so overrated. Things are never as sweet when they last forever.

She gasps out a question. "Will you love me forever, Miroku?"

He only laughs and brushes a few wisps of hair away from her temples. "Do I have to?" he asks, while touching his lips to her cheek sweetly.

She giggles in response and shakes her head. Everything is just right.

xXx

Naraku is dead. Finally killed by one of Kagome's arrows. The flare of pink light still brands her thoughts.

Sango is hugging Miroku and crying, and Miroku is putting his arms around her comfortingly. Inuyasha looks distantly into the forest, where Kikyo has disappeared. And Kagome looks nowhere at all. Everyone is occupied.

And suddenly, Sango is laughing and smiling and laughing again as she kisses Miroku on the cheek and he kisses her on the mouth. Kagome remembers that mouth. Sango says she will marry him and live with him forever, happily, oh so happily.

The world is so ironic, Kagome thinks. Sango will never have him "forever," and no one but Kagome and Miroku know it.

Kagome feels that familiar hurt in her heart again. Miroku is gone, like a cloud passing over the sun. The sun has come out again, and the earth is shining anew with hope and promise.

It was just a fling. Just a quick love affair, something to entertain them, something to pass the time.

It was doomed from the start, and Kagome could point out a million things about it that was imperfect, was flawed, was imperfect.

Kagome laughs with Sango and wishes her a happy forever.

Or however long it lasts.


	3. Let's Play Tag, You and Me

**A/N: Kouga/Kagura! Amazing...It's probably going to suck, but hey, I tried. Leave a review, darlings. And plus, check out Fairytale, the story that is my main project.**

**Let's Play Tag, You and Me**

He hates her. There is no doubt about it. She killed all his comrades, all his family, everything he had left in this world. There's no questioning hatred. He clenches his teeth and clings to his hate, which is the only thing he has left.

Kouga spits into the wind. His saliva flies right back at him.

xXx

Kagura thinks of him, sometimes. She is intrigued by the wolf-boy, the one whose life she destroyed. Or was it someone else? She doesn't keep track of these things.

She only knows one thing, and it is slavery. Kagura is a slave to Naraku. And deep inside, she is bitter. Her bitterness is so sharp that it could slice a huge, gaping cut into the sky. She wonders if it would leave a scar.

But for now, she does not wonder. She only laughs. Laughs before she kills. She finds it a good way to pass the time.

xXx

Kouga runs, faster and faster, until it feels like the friction against his skin will burn him up, tear him to pieces. He accepts it, and runs faster. He wishes that he could leave his memories behind.

The wind pushes back relentlessly, harsh and cruel, and Kouga thinks of the wind-woman. She is challenging him.

And he accepts.

xXx

Kagura follows Hakudoshi resentfully. He is a brat, a smirking, self-satisfied brat who thinks he can command to do whatever he pleases.

She refuses to entertain the idea that it is true. He can, indeed, make her do whatever he wants. Because he and Naraku carry her heart in their hands.

Sometimes, she wishes that she would have a heart attack, so that her heart would die, and she would not rely on them for life anymore. Life is burdensome when it is dependent.

She hates to accept the truth, so she does not think about it at all.

xXx

She is here.

Kouga watches Kagura alight delicately from her feather, and he is distrustful. "Why are you here, woman?" he spits at her distastefully.

"Because I want to be," she answers smoothly. Who is he to ask her what she is doing?

"Did Naraku ask you to come here?" he demands.

"No."

He is angry. "You lie!"

She shrugs nonchalantly. "Believe what you wish, wolf-boy, but I do what I want."

"You lie again. You do nothing you want. You do everything Naraku tells you to do. You are a slave to him."

She hisses in anger, and slices her fan across his face. Blood drips from a thin cut, so thin, it is almost artistic. She smiles a bit, soothed. "I do what I want," she repeats, to convince him, but it is more to convince herself.

Kouga laughs, a harsh, bitter sound. "Denial does not make things any less real, Kagura. You of all people should know that."

Her eyes widen slightly. She says nothing, because she does not know how to respond to that.

Kouga watches her crestfallen face in a new light. Her hair has begun to come down from her bun, trailing against the marble whiteness of her skin. He can see her slender form under her kimono, and suddenly, he wants to trace it with his fingers, and tell her that she is beautiful. She almost makes him sad.

But he just laughs daringly and walks closer to her, seeing her eyes light up in surprise. "I'm warning you, Kouga. Stay away from me," she threatens emptily.

He smiles roguishly and caresses her neck. "You killed everyone. Did you know that? Are you happy?"

She stares at him. "No," she whispers back. "Are you happy?" she turns back on him.

He laughs again, loudly. "Of course I am. Of course I am," and the wind pulls a feather out of her hair angrily, ready to leave.

But for the first time, instead of letting the wind blow away from his grasp, Kouga runs up and makes a grab at her. But she flies away.

xXx

But she comes back, because she has no one else to come back to, and she thinks it a nice change to have something stable.

They don't talk anymore, because neither wants to know the others feelings; they want to escape it all.

They carry on a torrid love affair behind Naraku's back, and somehow, he doesn't find out. Or perhaps he knows, and simply enjoys their little game from afar. Kagura never knows with him.

But Kouga pulls her to him, and she forgets the world, forgets that she has his blood on her hands, and only remembers that she loves those hands of his. In return, she brands him with her hot, wild kisses.

Kouga thinks to himself that no one can kiss like she can. Who has ever received a kiss from the wind?

xXx

But they know that it must end. And so it does.

He watches her go with strong, sad eyes, and she stares back, wanting to memorize every line on his face, every curve of his arms.

She opens her mouth to say something, perhaps to staunch the tears that are beginning to gather in her eyes, and she becomes angry.

"Just leave me alone!" she screams at him. He just grins at her.

She feels sorry for yelling at him; it isn't his fault. And she wants to say goodbye. They will probably never meet again, and when they do, it will be a battle to the death. But she says none of this, only says, "I'll think of you, sometime."

He scoffs and returns, "Don't. Don't talk about me or think of me at all. Because I won't do the same for you. Words are not trustworthy."

She's hurt, for reasons unknown. "You won't think of me?" she says in a small voice, a voice she didn't even know that she had.

"Nope. There's no point in dreaming about things, woman. Surely you know that. Actions speak louder than words, Kagura," he says before running up to encage her in his arms.

She flies away before he even gets close, and doesn't look back.

xXx

When she dies in the field of flowers, it is Sesshoumaru who is with her. And she tells him that she is happy that he is there. For she is. She did not want to die alone, after all.

But then, when she scatters into the wind, becomes the wind, flies freely in the air, laughing and crying at the same time, she does not go to Sesshoumaru.

_You can catch the wind, if you want to,_ she thinks.

_I wonder if he wants to catch me._

And of course, there is only one "he" for her. She remembers his blue eyes and smiles.

_Actions speak louder than words, wolf-boy._

_Come catch me._


	4. The Answer is Always False, My Love

**A/N: For Hanyou-and-Taijiya. I tried. I really did. And on a school night. Sango/Inuyasha, I have to say, is not as delicious as Miroku/Kagome. That will always be my favorite.**

**The Answer is Always False, My Love**

Sango's bones ache with knowledge. Her body is a shrine to murder and killing. She is the death-bringer, the life-taker. Death always brought glory and happiness. Death meant one less demon in the world. Sango killed demons. Sango tightens her grip on Hiraikotsu. Sango would have killed Inuyasha. If she were strong, she would do it now.

(Strength is an illusion, after all).

Memories last a lifetime, to this, Sango can attest. Her memories dog her every footstep, take her every breath. She wishes she could forget. But she cannot. And so, she cannot forget her father, telling her sternly that demons were the enemy, that she was a demon slayer, that she was meant to kill and that is the crux of it all. But here she is, lodged uncomfortably in the presence of demons, Inuyasha and Shippo. The irony is not lost on her. If she were younger and happier, she might laugh. But Sango is serious, and she does not see anything worth laughing about.

(Humor is an illusion, after all).

Kirara is a pet, a protector of sorts, a friend. Kirara is a cat, and Sango refuses to think of her as anything else. Should Sango regard Inuyasha as a dog then? Her heart hurts to think about it. So she pretends that she cannot see his ears, cannot feel his claws every time he holds her hand. She scrabbles desperately to keep at her little game.

(Imagination, we all know, is just an illusion).

One day, she will have to kill him. For all demons are evil; it is something she knows in the core of her empty, empty soul. But for now, he is her lover, and he fills that cold, dark space where her heart once was with a spark of light. It is beautiful. Sex is beautiful. Inuyasha is beautiful. And she wishes that she could only be with him forever, delay the inevitable, prolong it until death, maybe even longer. Because Sango is all a flutter for beauty.

(Beauty is an illusion too).

For now, she enjoys that delicious scrape of claw on flesh, that breathtaking friction between their bodies, the blinding unification of their souls, and she holds it inside her, tucks it into a corner of her being. Sometimes, when she is alone, she takes it out, turns it around and around and holds it up to the light to examine it. It is ever so real. Ever so real, she thinks.

(You must have learned by now, that everything is an illusion).

And Sango knows this because everything that is good and true has been taken from her, as if it never was. All she has now is her demon, and he is still...just a demon. And her friends, why, if she could call them that, companions, more like; she has betrayed them all. Inuyasha was not meant for her, was not meant for a demon-slayer, was not meant for an empty woman. Every time Sango looks at Kagome, she feels the guilt welling up hot and damning in her throat, threatening to choke her. Kagome always smiles, is always joyful, is always full, full of purity. The empty woman steals from the full woman. What a friend. What a friendship.

(Friendship is like the others, a trick of the light, an illusion).

Sango sits alone, by herself, and watches Miroku-sama waste away, unfulfilled, unrequited. Sango is causing another death, and she isn't even lifting a finger. When Kagome finds out what she has done, Sango will have killed yet another heart. Perhaps her father was right. She is a slayer, and that is the crux of it all. She will never be able to escape her fate. But love, there is always love, right? Even if it's a half love, a stolen love. True love is the one thing that lasts forever. Sango smiles in her small revelation. Love is the best. The very, very best.

(Poor girl. Love is the most deceiving illusion of all).


	5. I Am A Beautiful White Lie, Of Course

**A/N: Longer than I expected. Slightly irritated with the bad quality of this one. Oh well, it served as a stress reliever.**

**I Am A Beautiful White Lie, Of Course**

Sometimes, Kan'na lets them hurt her, just so she can see if she bleeds, if she's real. She doesn't. She's white, white, oh so sparkling white, the perfect one, the eldest one. After her empty years of contemplation, she has decided that red is her favorite color. If only splatters of that beautiful red bloody sweet sorrowful color could stain her pristine white garments; she would drink in the beauty. But it has never happened. Kan'na wishes for a puddle of blood to jump in. She wants to paint herself red. But wants are weak, and she is not. So it is all fine.

Time after time, she watches the demon slayer boy, the one with an even more miserable existence than she. He is splashed with that lovely crimson often. And she studies the torment that darkens and wets his eyes. If she could laugh, if she could find anything funny (but she cannot; she is a stone), she would be laughing at the boy. Secretly in the empty hole that she calls her heart, she harbors a feeling of annoyance. Let it all go, she thinks. It would be so much easier. Kan'na never thinks about what she does, and the victims simply die, and it is all fine.

Kan'na has no remorse over the numerous deaths she has caused. If she could feel curious, if she could find anything intriguing (but she cannot; she really could care less about such things) she would want to know how it feels to have your soul sucked out and watch a piece of yourself melt into the icy cold silver that is the Mirror. But Kan'na has no soul, so even if she did want to know how it felt (and she does not), she would not be able to try it on herself. There is no soul to suck out. Either way, it is all fine.

Her father, Naraku, orders her with smirk on his face, knowing that Kan'na is the one who will never disobey his orders. If she could yell, if she could find to be angry about (but she cannot, her voice is but a whisper), she would be throwing a temper tantrum at his surety, his disgustingly smug smile. She only nods, with something akin to mechanic response and goes about her way, the empty boy trailing after her. She feels something smoldering within her, like some sort of resentment, some sort of hatred. But then it goes away like a light winter snow, melting away the next morning, and it is all fine.

When she is alone in the world and tired of being perfect, she talks with the empty boy, as if there is something to talk about. He is quiet, and so is Kan'na, and it is so ironic it almost hurts. If she could fill up the room with witty conversation, if she ever felt bothered by silence (but she does not; it is such a trivial, stupid thing), then she would be chattering away. Kohaku only stares back with a dull sheen to his eyes. Kan'na likes him best when he is suffering. His eyes shine like gems. They are so beautiful. Kan'na is a pretty girl, but nobody thinks of her as such. She's only pale and perfect and that is all that anyone ever sees. She is lovely but evil, and that is what the half-demon and his group thinks. But who is she to care about other people's opinions? They slide off of her, evaporate like dew under the noon sun, so it is all fine.

Kagura, her rebellious sister has talked to her of freedom, something so foreign that Kan'na cannot even wrap her mind around it. If she wanted to be free, if she could find it appealing (but she cannot, because what would she do with her freedom?), she would fight to the death, like Kagura did. Kagura is dead now, and Kan'na can't help but wonder what the use of freedom was when death followed so avidly. Sometimes, Kan'na misses her fiery, angry younger sister. But she has decided that turmoil does not become her. That is why she speaks with the empty boy. She thinks that maybe if Kohaku were taken, she would feel an inkling of unhappiness; he is so much like her. Kan'na prefers not to think of such things. They only cause uncertainty and annoyance, which she dislikes, so she does not think of it, and it is all fine.

Many times now, she has seen the half-demon save his miko girl. And she is confused. Why does he put herself in harm's way? Kan'na would never do such a preposterous thing. If Kohaku were to die, if Naraku were to die, she would not jump in front of them to save them. She would watch them die complacently, and pretend to mourn afterward. Once, once, she heard about something called love. If she could love someone, if she had the heart, the spirit to love (but she does not; what a laughable notion) she would love the empty boy. Maybe she loves him already. But love comes from the heart, and since she has none, she cannot love him, and it is all fine.

Everything is fine to her.

xXx

"Kohaku?" she says blandly to him. Naraku's baby is resting, and Kan'na finds that she does not care. She hopes that it suffocates and dies, but she would never kill it with her own hand. So she spends time talking with the empty boy. She finds that it suffices to take up time.

"Yes?" he returns. His eyes are back to normal, not glazed over. That means Naraku has forgotten him, for the time being. Kan'na likes his eyes. They glow with goodness and pain. His eyes are beautiful. Hers are as black as coal: cold, flat, and blank. Naraku's eyes are red. She wishes that she had red eyes.

Kan'na does not know what she was going to ask. Everything is so boring and useless. "Are you cold?" she asks. His skin is freckly, so different from Kan'na's milk white flesh.

Kohaku stares at the ground. "The room is warm."

A small smile curves Kan'na's lips. But nobody sees. Nobody usually sees what is real. "That isn't what I meant at all." She pauses, but Kohaku does not respond. So she says, "I am very cold. So very, very cold." Kan'na can pretend to feel. Pretending is fun, sometimes. It is fun to toy with the empty boy. There is almost nothing left.

To her surprise (and she is never surprised), Kohaku slowly but surely snakes a hand toward her and picks up her lily white hand, holding it delicately in his own tanned hand; he treats it as if it were made of porcelain. And perhaps it is. Kan'na really doesn't know. If she had a heart, this might have been sentimental and sweet. But she is stone, and he is air, and the world does not work like that for the two of them. So she stares stonily at her hand, encased in Kohaku's.

"Are you warmer now?" he asks flatly, as if chafing a hand could make anyone warmer.

Kan'na turns away. "Yes." That isn't what I meant at all, she thinks.

xXx

It is the hour of her death. Kan'na never thought that it would be so anti-climatic. The empty boy is long gone, and their conversations long forgotten. He has gone to the half-demon's brother, where he spends time talking to another little girl. This one is human, full of bubbly laughter and innocence. She is so different from Kan'na, and yet Kohaku is ever so happy with her. Kan'na does not care. She'll never think of him again. She is so demon, and he is so human, and he is so real, and she is so fake. The human girl would be best for him after all.

Kan'na watches as the mirror demon she has conjured fights on. Byakuya is behind her, and satisfaction radiates from his inner being. Vaguely, Kan'na wonders when Naraku will stop making detachments. They are starting to wear on her.

Inuyasha attacks, and the mirror demon takes a blow. Kan'na transfers it onto herself. She splinters. There is a hole in her throat, and a long, worrying crack goes through her eye, all the way down her face. It doesn't hurt. But Kan'na knows that she is going to die. Naraku doesn't care. If only he treated her like a daughter, she would do whatever he wanted. But he doesn't, and she does his will anyway. And now his will is for her to die.

The miko girl is yelling at her not to sacrifice herself. Kan'na shrugs. What does the miko girl know about sacrifice? She knows nothing. Kan'na's entire life is a sacrifice.

The splinters strain on Kan'na. Her mind wanders. The fight does not even matter anymore. Whoever wins, Kan'na will lose. Mindlessly, she lets the wounds eat into her glass flesh. She remembers that Kohaku thought of her as porcelain. It doesn't matter. Both are cold and hard.

Another attack. This time, Kan'na's hand is sliced cleanly off. She watches it blandly as it falls to the ground. Kohaku held that hand once, she thinks. Now, she will never be able to remember it again.

With a flash of light, the demon is destroyed, and it catches Kan'na off guard. She has failed again. No. Naraku has failed.

Inuyasha prepares to kill her, and Kan'na stares dully. Her life is forfeit anyway.

But instead, he sheathes his sword and tells her to leave. No, she thinks faintly, this isn't the way it's supposed to end. Kan'na is supposed to die. But everything has gone awry, and she is to live.

Naraku's voice bores into her mind. "Fools," he hisses. "After such a long battle, they are willing to let Kan'na go? No. Here is your last task, child." Kan'na grows dizzy and uncomfortable. His voice nauseates her. The world comes to a standstill as Naraku tells her what to do. "Take them with you to the netherworld." The command resonates within her.

The miko girl smiles at her, a purely beautiful, brilliant smile. "You're free, Kan'na. Go." The ground is spinning, the sky is spinning. Kan'na does not want to go. Naraku's order tugs at her.

"Free?" she repeats, in a daze. Oddly, her mind conjures up Kagura's valiant attempt at freedom. Kagura was cheated. She was cheated of a real life. And she worked ever so hard to attain freedom. Kan'na feels sick and wrong. She shouldn't be able to get what Kagura never got to enjoy. Freedom is not for her.

Seconds are ticking away, tick tock tick tock. Kan'na takes a deep breath. She explodes. To the end, she has obeyed Naraku. But no. A flash of brilliance, a piece of glass, something more. Kan'na feels emotions flood her inner being, caged up so long by her cruel creator. I mustn't go like this, she thinks with a clarity that she has never experienced. Strangely, she wants to cry.

_If she could love someone, if she had the heart, the spirit to love (but she does not; what a laughable notion) she would love the empty boy. _

And now, Kan'na has the heart, the spirit to love. Oh the empty boy, oh Kohaku, how she misses him so! Her heart is going to implode, explode, implode, explode, outward, inward, until she wants to scream. She lets a piece of her pierce the miko girl's eye. For Kagura, she thinks. Kan'na is going to be free, is going to be disobedient for the first time in her life. How ironic that it is in the last moments. The sensation is so delicious that she feels giddy.

"The light will destroy Naraku," she tells the miko girl.

And now she is free. Free to die. Free to become again. Free to love.

The empty boy floats in her mind, before everything goes dark and Kan'na is no more.


End file.
